


Like Your Halo’s Lined with Mistletoe

by Snow



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Catholic Character, Christmas, Crusades, Gen, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow/pseuds/Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ky Kiske, Sol Badguy, a church and a snowy day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Your Halo’s Lined with Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antediluvian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antediluvian/gifts).



"Shouldn't y'be giving everyone a pep talk or somethin'?"

Ky can see his own breath white against the air of the church, but not Sol's. Maybe he's too far to be able to notice that sort of thing, or maybe the angle is wrong. Ky has been alone in the church for the last couple of hours, because the general consensus is that it's probably haunted, as if lost souls being in a church would be a problem for some reason. Ky doesn't mind the solitude, it's a lot better than what Sol's implying he ought be doing. "That's at eleven," Ky says, but he rises from his spot on the floor to try to talk more like an equal.

There's something disturbing about Sol's presence in this place. Maybe it's just the fact that there's a certain comfort to his presence, a solidness to him, and Ky is past having adults around to protect him, or maybe it's the fact that he's never once known the man to join in a service.

"Did you want your privacy?" Ky asks after a moment, because it wouldn't do to be rude, and he can see the strong appeal of an empty building that's been blessed by God, particularly when there are as many people's attention on him as there seem to be.

"Fuck, kid, didn't come 'ere lookin' for him," Sol snorts back, and Ky flinches at the words and at the meaning of their context. Some day he'll learn to stop expecting Sol to mind his own tongue, learn to stop setting up quite so nicely for himself to be shocked.

"I did," Ky says, and he knows better than to expect that to be it, but at the same time it's also not really privacy so much that he wanted this evening as it is the ability to not have to be anyone else for other people, the ability to sink to his knees and have it accepted that that's his place, when it comes to some topics. For all that he knows exactly how to rile Ky up, Sol's presence at the moment is more welcome than anyone else's might be, because he's not putting Ky on a pedestal.

"There's a local priest by to bless the army. Y'can get him to give the 'Christmas Miracle' sermon everyone's expecting."

"Thank you, Sol," Ky says, because that sounds lovely and because it's not really shirking his duties to let someone more suited for a task take it on. Regardless of if it will mean more to the men to have their fifteen-year-old rising star give them a speech about hope, this is one of God's holy days, and he is allowed to consider what is good for them in more than simply the current moment.

Sol just grunts, and Ky raises his hand in front of his mouth so he can smile, so he can appreciate Sol's lack of explicit objection. Whatever he would say, it doesn't change that this is something he seems to have taken on solely for Ky's own benefit.

He expects that to be it and the man to leave, but instead he lingers. Ky wonders, knowing it's absurd even as the thought springs into his head, if Sol is waiting for a formal dismissal. Knowing that isn't what it is doesn't help, when Sol's still standing there, and Ky's wondering if he'll be able to get back to his prayers and what Sol is actually waiting for.

"It's snowing," Sol says after a moment, and Ky doesn't have the time to hide his smile this go around.

* * *

It's too warm for Paris in December, even given how much Ky knows the weather fluctuates. He doesn't roll up the sleeves on his jacket or take it off as he takes his seat in a pew, but he notices that many people have done that much. The church is only likely to get warmer as it fills with people, but Ky lets that much wash over him as he nods his greetings to those that he knows (even if he's not more than passing acquaintances with any of them, despite having gone to this same church whenever he's in Paris for the last three years).

The service is what he would expect of a Christmas eve service, and that's good, because that's how it should be, and because 'as expected' doesn't mean that he isn't moved or that he feels that there's anything missing.

The streets outside are dark with just enough lights from apartments and the city to keep people from running into anything, and Ky makes his way back to his apartment slowly, allowing himself this measure of leisure for once. The wider his eyes are, the more of the city he takes in, the more reasons he has to pray, the greater awareness he has of how much this world is worth protecting, not that he could ever doubt that.

When he sees Sol standing outside his apartment door, Ky is sorely tempted to keep walking by, to not even acknowledge the man's presence. Whatever his reason for being here, it's not likely to make Ky's day any better, and maybe that's a selfish thought but it's not as though Sol's given too much indication about caring for more than what's most convenient for him, these last several years.

Ky stops, as much because he finds himself more curious the more he thinks about why Sol might be here as because of the sense of duty he can feel swelling inside of him.

"Can I help you?" Ky asks, because Sol seems content to stare at him.

"Probably not," Sol mutters, and if Ky had to guess he would say that Sol seems exasperated, but that's not a hard guess because Sol always seems exasperated.

"I certainly can't if you don't tell me why you're here."

"Not here for yer help."

This is about as enlightening as conversations with Sol usually are, and Ky doesn't manage to hold back on the urge to sigh. "Perhaps you should simply tell me why you _are_ here, then."

Sol shrugs and shoves himself off the doorframe. 

Ky's hands tighten into fists as he braces himself for a fight, then tighten further as he thinks for a moment that Sol might be drawing close enough to kiss. Ky's lips feel dry, and he's not sure where to focus his eyes, but Sol shifts to the side at the last moment and then keeps moving past him.

"Merry Christmas, kid."

"You can't just _leave_!" Ky cries after him, and he's aware that he's shouting and that Sol is still walking away, the unseasonable humidity plastering his clothing to his body, but he can't think of how running after Sol would do any good, would make him stay. He's not quite ready to go inside yet, either.


End file.
